


Myths, Legends, and Folktales? Pah!

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But I just couldn't control my Sarcasm level and it just burbled up in footnote form, But that fits (sorta) with my headcanon so..., Flirting, Humor, I'm sorry. I got lazy while I was typing, Implied First Time, Implied Relationships, M/M, Not Beta Read, So Aziraphale sometimes turned into Az, Sorry for all the footnotes, Think of it this way. It could be a bunch of parenthesis interrupting the story, meta but only slightly, or it could be footnotes, probably overzealous use of italics, sorry for any mistakes, the author feels no shame for the following fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock tells his tale of woes to Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley rolls his eyes a lot, and Aziraphale, also known as Az, sympathizes while drinking lots of tea. John just deals with what seems like the hundredth telling of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Myths, Legends, and Folktales? Pah!

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a class assignment, after reading an anthology entitled "Myths, Legends, & Folktales of America".  
> If you can't tell from this story, I hated it. And if you personally don't mind any of the myths mentioned, or your opinion differs from my and Sherlock opinion in whether they matter to America or not, I'm sorry, but that's what I think. At least. When I have to analyze and then write numerous essays about them I think they don't matter
> 
> The essay mentioned in this fanfic is in no way needing to be read to understand any of the plot.

Sherlock, Aziraphale, and Crowley were all gathered in the sitting room of 221B, the angel and demon on the couch while Sherlock was slouched dramatically in his chair. John was puttering about in the kitchen making tea.

“I mean, look at this, just look at it! It even looks idiotic!” Sherlock groused.

“Ah, of course, dear. However-” Az started, but he was interrupted by John bringing out the tea for everyone. “Thank you John. Anyway, as I was saying Sherlock-” He was again interrupted, but this time, it was by two things- Sherlock going off on a tangent and, surprisingly enough, by Crowley placing his hand on Az’s thigh. Az started, almost spilling his cuppa, and glanced over at the demon. Crowley simply looked over his black lensed glasses at the angel and raised a brow.

Sherlock hadn’t even noticed Crowley and Aziraphale’s little exchange. After deducing them (Angel and demon respectively, both have got it bad for the other, the blond (angel) was English, intelligent, and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, while the dark-haired demon was the more serious of the two, and wore the ‘pants’ in the relationship, even though neither had made a move on the other as of yet), he had begun his tirade.

“Who does this Leeming even think he is?! He _mentions_ two other detectives in one of his idiotic introductions, after which he then talks about _Superman_ of all people and doesn’t even so much as glance in my direction across the pond, even though this was in the European section of the book! What kind of author **(1)** does he think he is? I mean, look here-" he pointed at the copy of the book in his hand that the author of this tale had so thoughtfully provided and flipped to page 165. "Look here: 'Dick Tracy and Sam Spade are detectives who exemplify the first type', the first type being law enforcing heroes endowed with great _intelligence_. Why am I not mentioned here?!" Sherlock was quite put out by the situation. John, who had settled into his own chair by the hearth after bringing out the tea, had already heard this tirade several times as Sherlock had deemed it necessary to tell everyone- and by everyone, he meant _everyone_ (even the take-away person, to whom John had subsequently given a rather large tip).

John hadn’t really understood why Sherlock had got into such a strop over this, but then he had also never really understood why Sherlock had decided that it was a good idea to shoot a smiley face into the wall using the good doctor’s handgun. (Which may or may not be illegally procured. But we won't dwell on that, now will we?)

Aziraphale was trying to pay attention, he really was, but now Crowley was periodically gripping his leg, not just resting his hand on Aziraphale’s leg, which was quite distracting in its own right (but more on that later). Anyway, the motions were almost seeming to relay a message from Crowley that seemed to state “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.” 

(It did relay this message, but Aziraphale was almost too busy thinking about other, ahem, things to pay attention to it. But sometimes. Aziraphale can’t say stuff straight out, and he has an atrocious habit of being overly flowery.)

Sherlock, on some level **(2)** noticing this development, thought to himself, “Maybe one of them is finally making a move.” His more dominant consciousness simply ploughed on with his usual callousness.

“And look at all the other myths that are included in this laughable thing that people have decided to call a book- ‘Uncle Sam’, ‘The Iroquois Flying Head’- which isn’t even that scary, have you seen a windigo?- ‘The Jersey Devil’- which is basically another Bigfoot, just a different origin- one story about a dragon, and it simply explains them, not a legend in sight. It even includes the fumblings of that treacherous cur General Custer and I don't know how many mythical beings that are oh so popular across the Pond.” Sherlock finally stopped to draw a breath, while the other occupants of the room drew an inaudible sigh of relief. **(3)**

And then Crowley decided to voice his own thoughts on the matter.

“But couldn’t the reason that he didn’t include you just be because he didn’t have enough room in his book? I mean, he would have had to include a whole new section just on you.”

Az glanced at Crowley, his brow raised now. “Really?” It seemed to say. “Really? You are trying to incite pride in this creature that is almost entirely made out of intellect and pride? Are you trying to kill the Universe? To the author, we just averted the Apocalypse! Do you really want to cause another one?!” (Years do not matter in the author's fandom timeline. If this were just _Good Omens_ fanfic, it would still be in the nineties. But, because this is meta, the year doesn't matter.) Az could put a lot of words into a single eyebrow raise. In return, Crowley simply squeezed Az’s leg again- which had the twofold purpose of saying “Trust me on this,” and distracting Aziraphale again. If Az could put a lot of words into an eyebrow raise, Crowley could be rather succinct with a single gesture.

John noticed this all with a new level of interest. Admittedly, he _had_ been looking for a distraction, but he had assumed it would come from Mrs. Hudson, or even an emergency at the clinic. Truth be told, he would have jumped at the chance to jump off a building right about now.

Sherlock preened at Crowley’s words (really, you could practically _see_ the feathers), looking as smug as the cat that got the cream and the cat that got the canary combined, with another suitcase of smugness thrown in for good measure.

“And really, have you seen the price of books these days?” Crowley tsked. “Better to have a book that can be barely called such than have a book that you only got for the one myth, then never read any of the rest.” **(4)**

Sherlock nodded, though he looked uncertain. It seemed he couldn’t decide if he was being manipulated or not.

“Because honestly, if you _really_ wanted to experience the _true_ Sherlock Holmes, the only way to go is Moffat and Gatiss, or Doyle.” Crowley shrugged. "Why read some second rate author who couldn’t see a real legend if it bit him in the arse?”

Sherlock nodded again, seeming to have come to the conclusion that Crowley was _totally_ right, and that he (Sherlock) was not being manipulated _at all_.

John was, personally, amazed. This man (shaped person. But John didn't know that, now did he?) was actually _manipulating_ Sherlock Holmes with his pride. Who was this Crowley that he knew how to do that? **(5)**

Aziraphale was beside himself as well, though his thoughts were more centered on the sinful side of what Crowley was doing, what with all the touch- he meant all the pride inciting. Az was quite conflicted about the whole thing, because Crowley was inciting pride, but  for a good reason. What was he to do? He finally decided against it for two reasons, both of which were totally angelic. (Well, one was at least. That one was that if he thwarted Crowley, it might cause someone to become Wrathful and hurt Sherlock. The other was not so… good natured, we shall say. That reason was that Az was worried it might stop Crowley from touching him anymore. But we’ll keep that reason between us, now won't we?)

 

Crowley was still speaking. “But if you won't, I can go talking to this Leeming guy.”

But Sherlock shook his head amenably. “No, no, it’s fine. Besides, I'm sure the author will complain about it in her essay.”

Crowley nodded once in affirmation. “If you're sure…” He trailed off suggestively.

“Positive.”

Crowley moved to get off of the couch, Aziraphale hurrying to catch up with him, setting his cuppa on the coffee table and most assuredly _not_ missing the sensation of Crowley’s hand on his leg.

“Well, if that’ll be all, Aziraphale and I will be off. Bookshops to open and all.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley after this statement. He never opened his shop on Sundays. He _was_ an angel after all.

Crowley held out his hand to Az, expectant. Aziraphale did not disappoint. **(6)**

Az and Crowley walk to the door, John scrambling to see them out.

At the stoop, Aziraphale and Crowley share covert glances that John _does not see_ (read: totally does) and walk past the Bentley. John gives them a quizzical look which Crowley manages to explain away- “We’ll pick it up later, traffic in Soho is horrible around this time,”- and then the angel and demon walk off. **(7)**

Oh, and another thing, Aziraphale and Crowley don’t go back to Aziraphale’s place, they actually end up going to Crowley’s flat because it was 1) closer, and 2) the bed had been used in recent history- not for _that_ though it would be soon. **(8)**

When John walks back into the flat, Sherlock is already in his ‘thinking’ pose (also known as his ‘I-Don't-Feel-Like-Going-to-Bed-Come-Cuddle-With-Me-John’ pose, and _damn_ if John didn’t fall for it every time, but he could hold out a little longer, thank-you-very-much). John went over to the dest to straighten up/stall. Then he glanced out the window.

His jaw dropped.

“Sherlock, come over here. You have _got_ to see this!”

“What?” Sherlock grunted. (He was in a strop because John hadn't fallen for his ploy to come and snuggle with him.)

“Sherlock, you great lump, get up already. Aziraphale and Crowley are flying off.”

“Of _course_ they are, John. They are an angel and a demon, they have wings,” Sherlock said, voice dripping with injured intelligence. “Still,” he said, shrugging, “I'm surprised they’re not taking the Bentley.” **(9)**

“But Sherlock, they are _flying_.”

“Boring.”

There is a pause, during which the good doctor stares out the window, thoughts of snuggling Sherlock far from his mind, though they are making a valiant struggle to return, and the detective seems to begin engaging in omphaloskepsis.

“Now, John, about our next case-”

“They are _flying_ , Sherlock. Flying.”

“Still boring, John. Still boring.”

* * *

 

(1) Not a Doctor, which is quite unfortunate. Though, if the author were to add any more fandom references to this, she might run out of tags when she posts this to Archive Of Our Own.

 (2) It is quite near the subconscious, but much like inner fangirl of the author, this level can crop up at any time it pleases. This level is also called the “shippy fangirl level”

 (3) Crowley and Az had been slightly worried that he had been about to pass out (Crowley because of the possible mess of tea on the floor, while Aziraphale was genuinely worried). John was just glad for the moment of silence, and he also knew better (see: Sherlock trying to smoke 13 cigarettes at once simply because that’s how many he could fit into his mouth at once). His ears had started to ring slightly from all the noise, and the disuse of actually hearing other words and sounds (the author is totally taking liberties here simply for the point of humor, she doesn't know if this can actually happen).

(4) The author would totally do this.

(5) For a horrifying moment, John entertained the thought that maybe Crowley was a third child of the Holmeses, but his own thoughts terrified him to much to think on them for very long. “There can’t be three of them. There can't. There just can't,” was on a loop inside his head for approximately three minutes before he ‘rejoined’ the conversation as it were)

(6) “Definitely making a move,” Sherlock’s inner shipper thought.

(7) Later, John will vehemently deny and reject the idea that he momentarily considered calling out to Crowley, “Is there any way you could make him eat his vegetables? Or sleep? Or just eat in general?” But, of course, the author knows all.

(8) You know how in the summary it said that Crowley’s eyes would roll a lot? Well, they do, just later. Az’s roll first, but only because Crowley can do _really_ weird (read: good, awesome, _heavenly_ ) things with his tongue. (The author is not ashamed of this reference. Not at all.)

(9) Crowley just ends up willing the Bentley to his flat because he is simply too comfortable in bed with Aziraphale to actually go out and get it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave any comments you feel are necessary, but no flames please. I know it's rushed, but I'm still working on my writing style. Thanks for reading!


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